


Ghost Town

by Winchestnuts



Category: Supernatural, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, On Hiatus, Pre-Cecilos, Supernatural Crossover, pre-destiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchestnuts/pseuds/Winchestnuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-season five AU:<br/>After trying and failing to live with Lisa and put the events of the Apocalypse behind him, Dean goes on the road, accepting small jobs from Castiel. Soon, he is directed to a permanent position in the "ghost town", Night Vale. At first his hunting instincts kick in and he just wants to gank everyone in town, but soon, guided by the smooth, sonorous voice on the radio, he begins to accept the town for what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Town

It’s 12:01am when the Impala’s engine starts running, and Lisa knows he’s gone for good this time, even though he didn’t make a sound as he left. His hunting skills have served him well. The scrunched up note beside her pillow confirms this: _I just can’t. Sorry. Look after Ben. And yourself. X._ The “X” is wobbly, as if he had second thoughts about writing it.

Dean Winchester has left her with nothing but his tearstained scrawl of apology. And as much as she wants to blame him for leaving Ben fatherless again, she can’t. Not when she knows what he’s lost. So instead she sends him a text to his fifth mobile phone, the one she knows he won’t check for at least another week.

_I understand. Be careful. Be good. L xxx  
  
_

  
Lisa’s right. Dean doesn’t see the message until a week and a half has passed. It would make him smile, except he hasn’t done that in a while. He’s not even sure if his muscles can move that way anymore. Still, it feels pretty damn _good_ to know that she’s going to be okay, allowing him to release the ball of nerves lodged beneath his ribs. He’d said that to Cas, a few days previously, only for the angel to respond that his body was in good condition, and he was not to worry. Damn heavenly entities and their penchant for social awkwardness.

Dean hasn’t stopped driving since he left Lisa’s. Obviously he’s taken care of a few bodily needs, even eaten when he feels unsafe driving (not that he cares about himself, but he’s sure the world would really end if anything were to happen to Baby).  Mostly he’s kept moving, letting Cas direct him to the nearest jobs: usually vengeful spirits and demons, always dull (all jobs are boring when you’re on your own), but occasionally something less so, some forgotten remnant of the Apocalypse that never happened. He reminds himself daily that he helped stop it, that Sammy was taken for a good cause at least, but it does nothing for his optimism. There are no good, bad, or even neutral causes anymore. Dean just sees the world in a thousand shades of grey since Sammy went away.

A small _pop_ as a hand taps lightly on the window tells him that Cas has arrived. The angel has taken to doing that since Dean told him to stop freaking him the fuck out. Dean should be pleased that Cas is trying to be thoughtful, but instead he just feels mollycoddled.

“What’s the word, Cas?” He asks, accelerating as he rides down a wide lane. Glancing beside him, he sees that Castiel looks confused, possibly pondering the meaning of his impossibly human phrase. “It’s just an expression.”

“As I suspected,” Castiel lies and Dean rolls his eyes, almost affectionately. He nearly calls Cas an “idjit”, wondering if it’s time to start him on references yet, but that makes him think of Bobby and the family he’s denying himself, and will continue to deny himself, because they’re not who he really wants. “The “word” is that the angels are regrouping. Transforming even. It appears that my revival has set events in motion,” Cas continues, pretending not to read the sudden increase in pain in Dean’s face.

“Right, and that means?”

“God, or something at least, is changing things. A while ago, a squadron of the new angels was sent to a “ghost town”, as you would call it. These angels are...unlike anything I've ever seen before. They require no hosts, and are instead great, radiant ten feet tall beings, colourful and covered in eyes and all manners of abnormalities. They plan to reveal themselves to a woman in the-”

“You said it was a ghost town? As in: everybody dead.” Dean interrupts, wondering if he misheard due to the rain that seems to cascade down on the tiny black car.

“It is. The residents are abnormal also, but this is not to do with heavenly interference. It appears they are...dead...but alive also. I am not sure of how to explain this.” Cas looks almost as perplexed as Dean feels, so he reaches over and awkwardly pats the angel on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, man, I’m sure we've faced much crazier.” _But Sam was always there, using his crazy ideas like logic and reason to work out the situation._ “So, what? Do we just gank them and get out?”

Castiel frowns, tracing a finger over the misted up window, as his breath crackles with something that sounds like electricity. “Returning from the dead - again - appears to have made me stronger,” he observes quietly, before registering what Dean has said. “No. You are not to harm the citizens of this town, nor are you to draw attention to yourself. What I, what the angels, are offering you is a permanent position. You are to observe this town and report back findings on whether it is dangerous or not.”

“And if it isn't? What, I’m just supposed to stay there?” Dean counts to ten, thudding his left fist against the steering wheel. Sammy would have been proud of him for not snapping at the infuriating angel.

“Yes. The new division - Erika, they call themselves - has ensured me personally that you will not be bored.” And yet, Cas still seems unhappy about it, biting his lips in a human way.

“Hold up, buddy. You keep saying “You”. Are you trying to tell me that you’re not coming? Just spit it out, Cas,” says Dean, hoping that Castiel doesn't take him literally and spit inside his car.

“That is exactly what I mean. The angels do not need me for their war effort, it turns out; there is no war effort, not since the new heavenly order arrived. However, they wish for me to remain behind, in heaven, to help my brothers and sisters through the transition to a new hierarchy.” Cas looks petulant and Dean almost smiles for the second time today.

“And the _angels_ ,” Dean spits the word out like it’s a curse (Castiel ignores him), “they have no problem with these new kids turning up out of god knows where to order them around.” The car judders as it hits a rut in the road, and Dean slows down, looking at Cas.

“They should have a problem. Heaven _should_ be in turmoil. But because of the Erika, everything seems okay. For the first time in a long time, there is an overwhelming sense of harmony,” Castiel says, staring at Dean.

“Not for me,” the hunter grunts, teeth gritted.

“Not for you,” Cas echoes. _Not yet_ , he says to himself.

 

  
Three days later Dean drives into Night Vale via a seemingly endless, sandy track carved into the desert. It’s then that things begin to change. Glancing out the window, he could swear that a lion with a deer’s legs just galloped across the ground, and all of a sudden the presence of a holy-tax-accountant angel beside him is sorely missed. But of course, the deer-lion hybrid, and probably the glowing, puce-coloured cloud over town too, are all just mirages. Still, maybe it would be a little easier if Cas were around. Mostly Dean just wants Sammy to roll his eyes and send bitch-faces his way while explaining away the hazy smoke figures that float around the Impala without Dean even having to ask. But that’s not going to happen, ever.

Coming towards an old drawbridge in the middle of a series of roads (leading seemingly from nowhere to nowhere) in the desert is never a normal occurrence, and Dean blinks, waiting for this latest hallucination to burst into flames or turn into multicoloured butterflies, like the previous ones have. It doesn't, and on closer inspection appears to be made of ceramic bowls and corrugated cardboard. It’s then that Dean notices a man standing on the bridge, staring down at him. He gets out of the car, holding his hand up to the sun as his eyes stream.

“You okay?” He shouts. The man simply stares. Or at least, Dean thinks he’s staring; he can’t see his face (he must be too far away), only his tan jacket.

After spending several minutes yelling up at the man in the tan jacket, Dean climbs back into his car and continues his journey, feeling a little like an unsuccessful Romeo, having called to his Juliet until his voice was horse. _Not_ that his Juliet would be a random dude who may or may not be contemplating jumping from the drawbridge to his death. Or a dude at all.

Roadside stores start popping up out of nowhere, and even the odd building, and Dean swears that the glowing cloud - which doesn't seem to be disappearing, no matter how much he blinks - dropped the carcass of a small dog on Baby’s roof, although his violent swerving dislodged it too quickly for him to be sure. As he travels further into the town, his car radio begins to crackle. Dean hasn't played any music since Sammy died. He turns a few dials, shifting through the sounds of screaming and scuttling that hopefully are just faults and not actual on-air shows, until a voice breaks through the static.

“The desert seems vast, even endless. And yet, scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow. _Welcome to Night Vale_ ,” a stiff, deep voice reads.

Parking his car next to the _Moonlite All-nite Diner_ , Dean leans back in the driver’s seat. What with the angry, bright cloud hovering in the air above him, the not-quite-right look about the people around him and the eerie voice from emanating from his car radio, he wonders what the fuck he’s gotten into.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I'm awful at summaries. So this is chapter one in an SPN/WtNV crossover I'm working on. It's a little bit more focused on background than the rest will be. Please leave feedback if you liked it (or if you didn't) or would like to see more.


End file.
